his mortal fangs; his eyes red as burning coals, and his brandishing forked tongue, of the color of the hottest flame, continually menaces death and destruction, yet never strikes unless sure of his mark.

When on the sea-coast of Georgia, I consented, with a few friends, to make a party of amusement at fishing and fowling on Sapello, one of the sea-coast islands. We accordingly descended the Altamaha, crossed the sound, and landed on the north end of the island, near the inlet, fixing our encampment at a pleasant situation, under the shade of a grove of live-oaks and laurels, on the high banks of a creek, which we ascended, winding through a salt-marsh, which had its source from a swamp and savanna in the island: our situation, elevated and open, commanded a comprehensive landscape; the great ocean, the foaming surf breaking on the sandy beach, the snowy breakers on the bar, the endless chain of islands, checkered sound, and high continent all appearing before us. The diverting toils of the day were not fruitless, affording us oppor tunities of furnishing ourselves plentifully with a variety of game, fish and oysters for our supper.

About two hundred yards from our camp was a cool spring, amidst a grove of the odoriferous myrica: the winding path to this salubrious fountain led through a grassy savanna. I visited the spring several times in the night, but little did I know, or any of my careless drowsy companions, that every time we visited the fountain we were in imminent danger, as I am going to relate. Early in the morning, excited by unconquerable thirst, I arose and went to the spring; and having, thoughtless of harm or danger, nearly half passed the dewy vale, along the serpentine footpath, my hasty steps were suddenly stopped by the sight of a hideous serpent, the formidable rattlesnake, in a high spiral coil, forming a circular mound half the height of my knees, within six inches of the narrow path. As soon as I recovered my senses and strength from so sudden a surprise, I started back out of his reach, where I stood to view him: he lay quiet whilst I surveyed him, appearing no way surprised or disturbed, but kept his half-shut eyes fixed on me. My imagination and spirits were in a tumult, almost equally divided betwixt thanksgiving to the supreme Creator and preserver, and the dignified nature of the generous though terrible creature, who had suffered us all to pass many times by him during the night, without injuring us in the least, although we must have touched him, or our steps guided therefrom by a supreme guardian spirit. I hastened back to acquaint my associates, but with a determination to protect the life of the generous serpent. I presently brought my companions to the place, who were, beyond expression, surprised and terrified at the sight of the animal, and in a moment acknowledged their escape from destruction to be miraculous; and I am proud to assert, that all of us, except one person, agreed to let him

lie undisturbed, and that person at length was prevailed upon to suffer him to escape.

Again, when, in my youth, attending my father on a journey to the Catskill Mountains, in the government of New York, having nearly ascended the peak of Giliad, being youthful and vigorous in the pursuit of botanical and novel objects, I had gained the summit of a steep rocky precipice, ahead of our guide; when just entering a shady vale, I saw, at the root of a small shrub, a singular and beautiful appearance, which I remember to have instantly apprehended to be a large kind of fungus which we called Jews' ears, and was just drawing back my foot to kick it over; when at the instant, my father being near, cried out, "A rattlesnake, my son!" and jerked me back, which probably saved my life. I had never before seen one. This was of the kind which our guide called a yellow one; it was very beautiful, speckled and clouded. My father pleaded for his life, but our guide was inexorable, saying he never spared the life of a rattlesnake, and killed him; my father took his skin and fangs.

Some years after this, when again in company with my father on a journey into East Florida, on the banks of St. Juan, at Port Picolata, attending the congress at a treaty between that government and the Creek Nation, for obtaining a territory from that people to annex to the new government; after the Indians and a detachment from the garrison of St. Augustine had arrived and encamped separately, near the fort, some days elapsed before the business of the treaty came on, waiting the arrival of a vessel from St. Augustine, on board of which were the pres ents for the Indians. My father employed this time of leisure in little excursions round about the fort; and one morning, being the day the treaty commenced, I attended him on a botanical excursion. Some time after we had been rambling in a swamp about a quarter of a mile from the camp, I being ahead a few paces, my father bid me observe the rattlesnake before and just at my feet. I stopped and saw the monster formed in a high spiral coil, not half his length from my feet: another step forward would have put my life in his power, as I must have touched if not stumbled over him. The fright and perturbation of my spirits at once excited resentment; at that time I was entirely insensible to gratitude or mercy. I instantly cut off a little sapling and soon despatched him: this serpent was about six feet in length, and as thick as an ordinary man's leg. The rencounter deterred us from proceeding on our researches for that day. So I cut off a long tough withe or vine, which, fastening round the neck of the slain serpent, I dragged him after me, his scaly body sounding over the ground, and entering the camp with him in triumph, was soon surrounded by the amazed multitude, both Indians and my countrymen. The adventure soon reached the ears of the commander, who sent an officer to request that, if the snake had not bit

himself, he might have him served up for his dinner. I readily delivered up the body of the snake to the cooks, and being that day invited to dine at the governor's table, saw the snake served up in several dishes; Governor Grant being fond of the flesh of the rattlesnake. I tasted of it but could not swallow it. I, however, was sorry after killing the serpent, when coolly recollecting every circumstance. He certainly had it in his power to kill me almost instantly, and I make no doubt but that he was conscious of it. I promised myself that I would never again be accessory to the death of a rattlesnake, which promise I have invariably kept to. This dreaded animal is easily killed; a stick no thicker than a man's thumb is sufficient to kill the largest at one stroke, if well directed, either on the head or across the back; nor can they make their escape by running off, nor indeed do they attempt it when attacked.

MA

Elias Boudinot.

BORN in Philadelphia, Penn., 1740. DIED at Burlington, N. J., 1821.

ORIGIN OF A FAMOUS HEREDITARY ORDER.

[Oration before the New Jersey Society of the Cincinnati, 4 July, 1793.]

ANKIND, considered as brethren, should be dear to each other; but fellow-citizens who have together braved the common danger -who have fought side by side,-who have mingled their blood together, as it were in one rich stream,—who have labored and toiled with united efforts to accomplish the same glorious end, must surely be more than brethren-it is a union cemented by blood.

I can no longer deny myself the felicity, my beloved friends and fellowcitizens, members of a Society founded on these humane and benevolent principles, of addressing myself more particularly to you, on a day, which in so peculiar a manner shines with increasing lustre on you, refreshing and brightening your hard-earned laurels, by renewing the honorable reward of your laborious services in the gratitude of your rejoicing fellow-citizens. Methinks I behold you on the victorious banks of the Hudson, bowed down with the fatigues of an active campaign, and the sufferings of an inclement winter, receiving the welcome news of approaching peace, and your country's political salvation, with all that joy of heart and serenity of mind, that become citizens who flew to their arms, merely at their country's call, in a time of common danger. The war-worn soldiers, reduced to the calamities of a seven years' arduous

service, now solemnly pause and reflect on the peculiarity of their critical situation. The ravages of war had been extended through a country dearer to them than life, and thereby prevented that ample provision in service or reasonable recompense on their return to private life, that prudence required and gratitude powerfully dictated. They thought that the distresses of the army had before been brought to a point. "That they had borne all that men could bear; their property expended -their private resources at an end-their friends wearied out and disgusted with incessant applications." But another trial, severer than all, still awaits them; they are now to be disbanded and a separation to take place more distressing than every former scene! Till now the severe conflict was unseen or unattended to. Poverty and the gratitude of their country are their only reward.

True, they are to return to their friends and fellow-citizens with blessings on their heads. The general liberty and independence are now secured, but yet want and dire distress stare many in the face. They are to return to wives and children, long used to dependence on the cold hand of charity, in hopes of a sure support from the success of the common cause, when their husband, father or child returned glorious from the field of conquest. Alas! these flattering hopes now are no more. Their country's exhausted treasury cannot yield them even the hardearned pittance of a soldier's pay. Being urged on one hand by the subtle poison of inflammatory, violent and artful addresses, under the specious mask of pretended friendship (the last expiring effort of a conquered foe),-warned on the other hand by the experience, wisdom, and rational conduct of their beloved commander, their father and long-tried friend, they solemnly deliberate.

Some guardian angel, perhaps the happy genius of America, ever attendant on the object of her care, raises the drooping head, wipes the indignant, falling tear from the hardy soldier's eye, and suggests the happy expedient!

Brotherly affection produces brotherly relief-the victorious bands unite together they despise the infamous idea-they refuse to listen to the siren's song-they form the social tie-they cast in the remaining fragment of their scanty pay, and instead of seizing their arms and demanding their rights by menace and violence, they refuse "to lessen the dignity or sully the glory they had hitherto maintained. They deter mined to give one more proof of unexampled patriotism and patient virtue, rising superior to the pressure of their complicated sufferings, and thereby afford an occasion to posterity to say, had that day been wanting, the world had not seen the last stage of political perfection, to which human nature is capable of attaining."

The glorious certainty of peace, purchased by their sufferings and

perseverance, now rouses the patriotic fire. They again rejoice in the event; they unite in a firm, indissoluble bond, "gratefully to comemorate the event, which gave independence to America,-to inculcate to latest ages the duty of laying down in peace, arms assumed for public defence in war, to continue their mutual friendship, which commenced under the pressure of common dangers, and to effectuate every act of beneficence, dictated by a spirit of brotherly kindness to any of their number and their families, who might unfortunately be under the necessity of receiving them;" and by this unanimous act establish this sacred truth, "that the glory of soldiers cannot be well completed without acting well the part of citizens."

This, gentlemen, is your origin as a Society-the source from whence you sprang, and this day we are carrying on the work first begun in these social principles.

Timothy Pickering.

BORN in Salem, Mass., 1745. DIED there, 1829.

ADVICE TO A COLLEGE GRADUATE.

[From a Letter to his son Octavius, recently graduated at Harvard.-Life of Timothy Pickering. 1863–73.]

I

HAD before thought of writing to you on the subject of your studies, although I trust you duly feel the importance of diligently pursuing them. Do not suffer yourself to be diverted from them by company or associations of any kind. Without secluding yourself from the other sex, let it occupy but a small portion of your time,-more precious to you than money; a contrary indulgence will make a fearful waste of both. Neither give yourself up to politics,—an evil at least as baneful in your situation and time of life as the other.

While the law engrosses most of your time, bear in mind the advice I gave you at home,-not to neglect your Latin and Greek. You must not be stationary in these languages. Read the classics so frequently, or rather so constantly, as to make them familiar, and the Greek Testament every Sunday. I feel sensibly on the subject, deeply mortified by my own deficiencies from conscious neglect of opportunities, now never to be recovered. And it is not mortification only, but a real disadvantage as a public man now, and the loss of high gratification as an individual, which compel me to press this matter on your attention. The classics of Greece and Rome are now also becoming objects of more diligent

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